


Play for Me

by Shell_LA



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, PWP, Shevine, ooc probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 03:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4591419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shell_LA/pseuds/Shell_LA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake is doubting his decision to move to Los Angeles. Then he meets his neighbor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play for Me

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I've been away. Was traveling pretty much all summer, and I've started grad school. My writing will be less frequent unfortunately. This is a ridiculous little one shot, completely pwp. I wrote this with an age difference in mind, Blake being in his mid thirties and Adam in his early twenties.

Blake’s a sonuvabitch every time he gets home from tour. He knows this, and is completely fine with it thank you very much. 

After being cooped up in planes and cars for months on end, being solely responsible for putting on a hell of a show day in and day out, Blake withdraws. Endless meet and greets, radio promotions and PR circuits leaves him feeling distinctly antisocial when he gets off the plane with his guitar and duffel bag, and his mood only sours when he sees the palm trees. 

Right. He’d almost forgotten.

Blake’s most recent album had been the last one on his contract with the label, and his manager had convinced him to shop arounda little before signing on for a renewal. 

A few weeks of being fought over in Nashville had fluffed his ego, but not enough to get him to switch teams. 

Then, A:I:R Records had thrown their hat in the ring.

It was an offer Blake couldn’t pass up, even when he’d discovered that they were based in Los Angeles of all places. 

“Blake,” His manager had pleaded. “What kind of country artist lives in LA? Nashville is your home! Everyone here knows your name! It won’t be that way in California, I can promise you.”

Blake had only smiled. “I’m counting on it. Not being mobbed every time I wanna go pick up some milk from the store sounds fine by me.”

Blake had booked a flight and hurriedly bought a house in the city of Angels before going on tour and forgetting all about it. 

A few months and a healthy dose of homesickness later, Blake wondered if he’d made a huge mistake. He didn’t realize how sorely he would miss the southerners and wide open spaces, with fields as far as the eye could see. 

A car picks him up at the airport, and Blake barely keeps his grumpiness in check as he tells the driver where to go. The whole way home the country singer stares out the window, taking in the sloping hillsides, high rises and spindly looking palm trees. 

The scenery grows distinctly more beachy as they leave central and drift into the Venice beach area. The neighborhood is trendy, tropical and not at all like anywhere Blake has lived before. 

He has to double check on his phone to make sure the car stops at the right house and he scrambles for his keys, cursing under his breath all the while. 

Blake unlocks the door, chucks his things onto the floor and looks around. His stuff is still packed up in boxes and piled around the house from when they’d been shipped here. It’s eerily quiet in the way that new houses are. 

He sighs, feeling unsettled.

Blake only stops to turn on the AC before falling onto the bare mattress in his bedroom. He’s asleep within minutes. 

Blake jerks awake. Besides the crick in his neck, the first thing he notices is that it’s still light outside, with bright sunbeams streaming in through his windows. With a groan he sits up, rubbing the back of his neck as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. 

4:45 PM. Blake frowns. He can’t have been asleep for more than an hour. Why the hell was he awake?

That’s when he hears it. Music was being played outside, close by and way too loud. Frustration built up within the country singer as he peered outside the window from where he sat and saw nothing.

Swearing a blue streak, Blake stumbled into standing and stomped to the front door. He flung it open with a bang and walked a few paces into his front yard. The music was much louder outside, but he still didn’t see anyone around. 

“What the hell,” He grumbled, scratching absently at his stubble as he listened hard. Blake looked back at his house and up. It sounded as if it was coming from the roof.

Blake stalked back inside and up the stairs of his house. Like almost all the homes in this area, Blake’s had a sundeck on the roof. He burst out onto the top floor and was immediately hit by a strong gust of sea air. 

Despite his bad mood it was bracing, and he breathed in the refreshing salty breeze. 

This quieted his surly, sleep deprived temper just enough so that when he looked around to investigate he didn’t start yelling. 

Then, as he spotted the source of the racket, Blake’s anger evaporated altogether.

On the roof of the house right next door, a young man was playing guitar. The instrument was hooked up to a live amp, which explained the volume. 

He was beautiful, Blake noticed as he stared. Beautiful and shockingly young to be playing with such skill. His brain supplied the name of the song reverberating around him. Little Wing. 

A classic, but with it’s own twist put on by the musician. The kid’s fingers were sliding over the frets effortlessly as he played the song, knowing when to move with force or with tenderness to get the best sound. 

The guitar was propped against his hip almost as an afterthought, but Blake saw how he held his shoulders more stiffly, the proper stance apparent underneath the showmanship. He could see the control the kid possessed as he observed with musician’s eyes, and it had Blake grinning. 

Though the guitar god would’ve looked lax and lazy to a layman, Blake could see how it was a studied nonchalance. This was a performance. 

Blake marveled then, at the likelihood of it. What were the odds that he’d move next door to someone who truly had “it”, that star factor, that special something that drives a person to perform and give their one hundred percent, even when they think they’re all alone. 

Blake had seen it before in his peers, and in himself. Those born for the stage gave their all for a song even if the only ears hearing it were their own. It was the way of an artist… and Blake couldn’t help but think he looked like a piece of art while he was doing it. 

His head was bowed, but it didn’t obstruct the view of refined, handsome features and ruffled brown locks. He was tall and thin, yet there was tone to him. He could see defined muscles, though none that disrupted the long elegant lines of his person. 

Blake found himself wondering how old the kid was. 

Excuses to go back downstairs, walk across his yard and knock on the guy’s front door start floating through Blake’s brain when Guitar God looks up. 

His gaze is clouded and heavy lidded with how wrapped up he is in the song and it hits Blake with a shock of arousal. 

The music stops abruptly, the last notes echoing across the rooftops and out to the waves on the beach. 

Blake waves jerkily, the motion awkward with how intrusive he feels, and his heart sinks a little as he watches the throes of the music fading away from the kid’s form. Blake is suddenly sorry he interrupted. 

His neighbor straightens and swings his guitar around across his back with the assuredness of someone who’s done that same thing thousands of times before. 

“Hey, man.”

Guitar God gives him a nod, a gesture that Blake has come to associate with those native to Los Angeles. It would make sense: the deep, even tan coupled with the ink tattooed all over those exposed biceps practically screams local. 

“You’ve got some serious skill with that thing.” For some reason, Blake feels very aware of his accent as he offers the compliment. 

“Thanks,” Guitar God cracks a smile, revealing dimples that make Blake’s heart beat just a little faster. “I didn’t know anybody was out here. Usually I try to play when it won’t bother anybody… was I too loud?”

The slight edge of nervousness in his tone has Blake lying loudly and earnestly. “No, no! I wasn’t bothered at all! I just was curious about who was playing so well. I just moved in, so I haven’t ever heard you out here before.”

“I figured. Don’t have too many cowboys in Venice, much less ones that are over 6 foot.” 

The tentative smile on the guy’s young, angular face was slowly growing sharper; his gaze hungrier as he looked Blake over. The country singer tried not to laugh as he was so blatantly ogled. At least he knew now which team this kid played for.

Clumsy come-ons from the twenty something probably meant he was open to anything Blake had to offer, and the musician felt some anticipation build within him. 

Taking a younger guy under his wing and giving him attention was one of Blake’s favorite things to do with his time- and just getting back from tour meant Blake would have lots of attention to give. 

Blake halted his racing mind, determined to bring himself back to the present. He was getting way ahead of himself. 

“My name’s Blake.”

“Hi, Blake. I’m Adam.”

…

Adam shuffles around Blake’s sparse home with casual movements. Blake watches him from where he’s leaning against the doorframe. 

“You weren’t kidding about just moving in, huh?” Adam trails long fingers over the top of a few stacked boxes. 

His eyes are bright and curious. Blake can’t stop staring.

“Been home less than three hours,” Blake acknowledged. “I should probably sort out the rest of this crap, but since I’ve unpacked the bare essentials it’s hard get motivated for the rest of it.”

Adam walks through the kitchen and gives an approving nod to the counter top of liquor bottles.

“You and I have the same idea as to what constitutes the essentials.”

“Yep. It’s pretty much that and everything in my bedroom,” Blake gestures down the hall. “All the rest can wait.”

Adam laughs. “Are you trying to get me into your bedroom, Blake?” 

The comment is both a joke and not, Blake knows. He wonders if Adam knows that Blake can see right through the tease. He wonders if Adam knows how transparent he’s being. 

Blake raises an eyebrow, playing it cool. He’s pleased when this causes an obvious blush to heat Adam’s face. The younger man blows past Blake down the hallway then, suddenly talking a mile a minute. 

Blake follows, his long legged gait much slower in order to better appreciate the view. Adam’s jeans fit him quite well, even with how they’re obviously worn thin from constant use.

“You know, our houses are almost identical,” Adam says, glancing over his shoulder, “The floorplan is only a little different, and obviously the features are the same. Same flooring, same paint… one of my band mates painted our sunroom green though, said the vibes were better. Jesse believes in feng shui and all that shit. We all live together, me and the rest of the guys… makes for easier rehearsal.”

Blake hums politely.

The end of the hallway opens up to Blake’s large bedroom with its one complete wall of windows. The view is spectacular- it was what had sold him on the house when he’d been trying to find somewhere to live. 

Adam stills to take it in, and Blake stands beside him. Brightly colored houses and decorated roof tops sloped downwards toward the water, and a generous sprinkling of palm trees dotted the scene of the ocean a few blocks away. The waves were choppy with the strong winds of the late afternoon, and even from this far away the pair could see the white caps of the waves as they hit the sand. 

“That’s the money shot, man.” Adam said approvingly. “Never gets old.”

“Definitely didn’t have this in Oklahoma. Or Nashville.”

Adam glances up at him. “You really are country, aren’t you?”

“Did ya think I was fakin’?” Blake lets his drawl grow obnoxiously stronger, smiling widely as Adam rolls his eyes. He stops mid way though, and Blake watches his expression suddenly light up. 

“You didn’t tell me you were a musician too!” 

Adam rushes towards the stacked instrument cases and guitars leaned against the wall. He’s about to wrap his hand around Blake’s guitar from the tour when he remembers himself. 

“Sorry,” Adam hesitates. “Can I...?”

Blake gestures for him to go ahead. Adam takes it in hand, strumming experimentally. 

“Damn. This is a really nice guitar.” He looks down at the others, six in all. “You have so many!”

Blake shrugged. “Gotta have a little variety when you’re touring. One of the perks.”

Blake watched with enjoyment as Adam’s eyes widen. 

“These were all given to you? Wait a second…” He watches Adam figure it out. “Me and the guys tour all the time ‘cause we’re trying to get exposure… drum up some fans. We never get instruments for free. You’re… you’re a big deal, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know about that-“

“Don’t bullshit me, man,” Adam pointed a finger at him in mock sternness. The silliness of it startled a big laugh out of Blake, and he shook his head. 

“What’s your last name?” Adam demanded.

“Shelton.”

Adam carefully set down the guitar and whipped out his phone.

“What are you doing now?”

“Googling.”

Blake shoved his hands into his pockets, shuffling his feet. 

“What the fuck!”

“Still just your next door neighbor.” Blake shrugged, suddenly feeling weird. Maybe he should’ve lied.

“But…” Adam spluttered for a moment, then quieted. Maybe it was tact, or maybe he could see how Blake was freezing up a little bit, but the country singer breathed a sigh of relief when Adam simply nodded, put his phone away, and changed the subject. 

“So have you been to the beach yet?” Adam asked as he plopped down on Blake’s unmade bed.

“Do all Californians make themselves at home?” Blake laughed at Adam’s presumptiveness, then watched him lie back and get even more comfortable in response to being called out. The kid was sassy. “I told ya, I only just got here.”

“Do you wanna go?” Adam offered, “I could take you. Show you around.”

Blake walked over to the bed and sat by Adam’s feet. His added weight made Adam’s legs slide on the mattress until they were resting against Blake’s thigh. 

“Not really in the mood to get all sandy at the moment.” Blake’s voice was a hair softer than before, almost unnoticeably. 

Adam noticed. 

Blake was stunned into silence when the younger man suddenly sat up and swung one leg over both of Blake’s, straddling him. They were chest to chest. He could feel Adam’s breath against his neck as he spoke. “Are you in the mood for something else, then?”

Blake blinked rapidly, trying to get his brain to work through the sudden rush of attraction he was experiencing. He could smell Adam’s shampoo as he let his hands rest against the younger mans waist, along with the faintest trace of cigarette smoke.

“You sure you know what you’re doin’?” Blake watched Adam shiver against him in response to his low rumbling question. “You don’t even know me.”

“Sure I do,” His response was breathy. “You’re my friendly neighborhood cowboy.”

“Adam…”

“Uh huh.” Adam breathed. “I’m sure.”

Blake let one hand stay at Adam’s waist, tracing teasingly underneath his tank top. He felt the smooth, taut skin there and groaned. Adam arched slightly into him as Blake used his other hand to tilt Adam’s face up. He was hit again by Adam’s youth as he stared into bright, hazel eyes framed by thick dark lashes.

Blake connected their mouths, letting himself get acquainted with Adam’s lips. He kept it chaste for a little bit, kissing gently as he spread his open palm against the small of Adam’s back. 

Adam kept nudging forward in his lap with each little kiss. His eagerness made Blake smile until he gripped Adam’s chin to keep him still.

“You’re a little wiggly.”

“You’re a little tease!” Adam retorted. Blake didn’t mind the jab… he was busy staring at Adam’s reddened mouth. 

“M’gunna take my sweet time with you,” Blake squeezed Adam’s side suddenly, making him jerk in his lap with a gasp. “You’ll thank me later.”

Adam rose up in his lap then and kissed him with force. It was a little filthy, with a bite at Blake’s lower lip to open him up before he felt tongue and more teeth. He moaned into the kiss, getting lost in the deep dirtiness of it before Adam pulled away for air. 

He reached up and ran a hand through Blake’s curls then, staring up at him with the brazen confidence of youth. 

“It’s you who’s going to be thanking me,” Adam promised. “Nobody else on the block has gotten this kind of welcome.” 

Blake laughed before shifting the two of them. He laid a kiss against Adam’s collarbone as he steered him down to the mattress, laying him out. The country singer held himself up with one arm as he kissed Adam, but let the weight of his lower body rest against his neighbor’s hips. He could feel Adam’s interest intensely against his leg. 

Adam strained upwards slightly to receive the kisses that Blake was giving him, tugging absently at Blake’s button down. The movement was pushing the fabric up around Blake’s waist. 

“Hey,” He pulled away, breathing hard. “That ain’t fair. If I lose my shirt, you lose yours. Tit for tat.”

“Oh my God.” Adam barked out a laugh. “Who says that? No one says that!”

Blake let more of his weight settle against the smaller man, grinding himself against Adam’s narrow hips. The movement left Adam arching up into him with need, eyes hazy and mockery forgotten. 

“Gahh… Blake…”

“You done talkin’?” Blake’s voice was deep.

Adam bit his lip and nodded. 

Blake tugged Adam’s shirt up, and with a little shimmying they got the garment off and flung across the room. Blake rubbed a warm hand up the side of Adam’s flank and over his chest. He could feel his heart beating fast, like a bird in flight. 

Blake started to kiss all over Adam’s chest, letting himself get nuzzly and affectionate, which was how he liked to be with his lovers. He let his stubble scratch a little, just enough to get those delicious little panting sounds spilling out of Adam’s mouth. The kid sure was vocal. 

He made his way steadily downward, and Adam was cursing up a storm by the time he started unfastening his jeans. He shoved the denim and Adam’s boxers down around his thighs and let his hands rub soothingly over the newly exposed skin. 

“You sure about this?” Blake asked one last time. He’d never jumped into bed with something so fast or, he had to admit, someone so much younger than him. He didn’t want to assume. 

Adam leaned up onto his elbows to stare down at Blake. “Yes, god- fuck yes. Please.”

Blake was more than a little flattered by the desperation in Adam’s voice. He had a feeling Adam’s experience with going slow was a bit lacking. Blake was thrilled at the idea of being able to teach him… over and over again. 

He was distracted from these thoughts when Adam suddenly blurted, “Dude, how tall ARE you?”

Blake followed his gaze, turning and realizing that most of his legs were off the mattress. He looked back at Adam. “6’5”.”

“Fuck. That’s so fucking hot.”

Blake chuckled. “Adam. Focus.”

The younger man let his hands creep back into Blake’s hair. The Southerner was beginning to think that Adam had a thing for curls. Blake returned his gaze to Adam’s tummy; kissing his muscled stomach before letting himself leave love bites on Adam’s inner thighs. 

“Oh… oh fuck.”

Blake wrapped his hand around Adam, stroking firmly as he kissed the side of his length. 

He kept his movements strong and firm as he brought his other hand to Adam’s balls, kneading them expertly. It had the desired effect. 

“Agh! D-damn!” Adam arched even more, wantonly shoving his hips up for more attention as his hair mussed against the bed. He thrashed a little, as if he couldn’t help it. A full body flush was coloring his neck and chest.

“Beautiful.” Blake hummed before taking Adam down his throat. His balance of suction and the teasing rub of his tongue against the underside of Adam’s cock had him moaning in a way he’d never heard a man moan before. Blake wanted to hear that sound everyday for the rest of his life. 

The country singer was unrelenting. He bobbed his head, torturing Adam slowly with the pleasure of it until Adam was almost sobbing, tugging Blake’s locks with his hands. 

Blake chose this moment to let a few plying fingers creep behind to Adam’s entrance, rubbing roughly against his rim before penetrating him. 

Adam keened, jerking roughly in Blake’s grasp. 

“Whaa..” Adam gasped. “Is that...I’ve never…”

Blake crooked his fingers upward, rubbing roughly into him. Adam screamed then, and Blake sucked hard, taking all that the younger man had to give him as he spasmed through his orgasm. 

When Adam calmed down a little bit, his sharp moans devolving into panting, Blake released him with one last kiss to a sharp hip bone. Adam mumbled something unintelligible, and Blake let himself feel a little pride about that. 

He scooted back up the bed over Adam, kissing him deeply before reaching down and undoing his own jeans. Adam's relaxed, sleepy features let him know his younger lover was a little far-gone... it was looking like he wouldn't be able to take things slow after all. 

Blake was flexible. He’d give him a break… this time. 

Blake scooped his arm between the small of Adam’s back and the mattress, cradling Adam’s languid body up against his chest. He shoved his face against the side of Adam’s neck, nuzzling against him there as he jerked himself roughly. He could feel Adam’s trembly fingers gripping at his sides, could hear his ragged breath… and then Blake just couldn’t help himself. 

He sealed his mouth against the tender flesh below Adam’s jaw line and bit down harshly. Adam’s squeaking, strangled moan set Blake off. He gripped himself tightly, held Adam more closely to him, and came. 

The force of his orgasm stole the Southerner’s strength from him. Blake collapsed against Adam, smashing the smaller man with his weight. He was too hazy to even think of moving, so Adam’s small contented noises and his clinging to Blake’s bigger form was a relief. 

After a time, Adam sighed happily. “That was fucking awesome.”

Blake laughed, the movement shaking them both and sending Adam into a fit of laughter as well. 

As he pulled back a little to look down at Adam’s filthily spattered chest and legs, Blake felt a face splitting grin wind its way onto his features. 

“You really are something.” He laid a quick peck on Adam’s forehead. “And you were right. That was one hell of a welcome.”

Adam scrunched his nose a little at the cloying sweetness of the kiss, but he smiled all the same. 

“Told ya.”


End file.
